


just break the silence

by obsessivelymoody



Series: phan bingo 2018 [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Apocalypse, Light Angst, M/M, Open Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-15 19:47:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16070048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessivelymoody/pseuds/obsessivelymoody
Summary: Sometimes quiet Sunday lie ins end up being too quiet





	just break the silence

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "apocalypse" 
> 
> Written for phandomficfests bingo fest!
> 
> Big thanks to [det395](http://det395.tumblr.com/) for reading this over for me <3

It happens on a Sunday. 

It happens on a Sunday, and at first, they don’t notice it at all. 

They don’t notice the quiet, the lack of metropolitain buzz that constantly surrounds them, the lack of pure white noise that no one realises is there until it’s gone. 

They don’t notice because it’s Sunday, and Sundays are _supposed_ to be quiet. Sundays are the one real day off they allow themselves, after all. 

Their phones are set to ‘do not disturb’, and as far as they’re concerned, there isn’t anything past their bedroom besides the strip of sunlight beaming in from between the curtains. 

Dan lazily runs his fingers across the bridge of Phil’s nose and over his cheekbone. 

“I really don’t want to get up,” Dan says softly. 

Phil grunts in agreement, reaching up to fold his hand over Dan’s where it rests on his cheek. He’s close enough that, even without his glasses, he can see the little amber flecks in Dan’s irises. 

“Yeah, but who’s going to get up and make me coffee then?” He says, pulling Dan’s hand off his cheek and twining their fingers. 

“Oh? Have your limbs stopped working now?” 

“Yes. I physically cannot leave this bed.” 

“Oh, shut up,” Dan says, laying on his back and shutting his eyes. “I’m not making you anything unless you get up at the same time as me.” 

“Unfair,” Phil says, leaning over Dan and tracing his thumb across his lips. 

“You’re lazy,” Dan replies, eyes still closed. “And that’s not going to work on me. Find us something cute to watch and _maybe_ I’ll consider making you coffee.” 

“You’re so difficult today.”

“I know.” Dan says cheerfully. “You could always use those legs of yours to go upstairs and make it yourself, you know.” 

“Fine, let me put my glasses on,” Phil sighs, taking his thumb off Dan’s lip. He twists, reaching to the bedside table to grab his glasses from where he’d left them the night before. 

Shoving them on, he taps the home button on his phone, checking the time before picking it up. It’s nearly ten in the morning but…

Phil’s stomach drops. He unplugs his phone, letting the charger snake down the side of the bed and slap onto the floor. 

There’s too many missed messages. 12 missed calls from his mum alone, and even more texts. He opens those first, and his heart sinks into his chest when he realises something’s happened. Something very bad. 

He types out a message, telling her they’re safe and at home, and that they just woke up but he’s calling her now. 

He frowns when the message doesn’t send. He taps it a few times, his frown deepening when the text still doesn’t send. 

“Shit,” He whispers, still tapping his screen. 

“Babe?” He hears the covers rustle, feels them stretch and bunch up near his legs, as Dan leans back against the headboard beside him. “Phil?”

Glancing up at the top of his screen, Phil feels hot tears prick behind his eyes, welling up and threatening to spill over. 

No service. No wifi. 

Nothing. Just a message telling him he has no reception and the current timestamp. 

There’s a sick feeling in his stomach, like he’s going to vomit. But he won’t, because it’s not the kind of sick you can throw up to feel even a little better. 

“Phil? What’s wrong?”

Phil just shakes his head, eyes still trained on his phone screen. The little red exclamation point next to the text he know his mum won’t ever receive mocks him.

“I—” He starts shakily, stopping when his throat feels too hot, too full of cotton wool to continue. 

“Phil?” Dan asks beside him, his voice carrying a frantic edge. 

Phil breathes in, then out, trying to will away the hot, dizzying flushed feeling clouding his head. 

“I don’t—something's happened.” Phil voice sounds small even in his own ears. “Something’s happened. I don’t have service.” 

“Phil—”

“I can’t text my mum,” His voice shakes. “I can’t text my mum back. I don’t have service and I can’t text her back. She texted and I can’t text her—” 

His voice cracks, and the tears finally spill over. Dan wraps his arms around him. 

His breath heaves in his chest as he tries to regain his composure, tries to breathe through his stuffed nose, but it’s like a punch in the gut every time he does. He can’t seem to shake the panic and worry as they continue to come crashing down on him after every moment of relief. 

He calms down eventually, though his entire body feels uncomfortably hot and swollen as he leans away from Dan. Phil’s gaze follows the shiny wet patch he left on Dan’s shoulder as he moves to grab his phone. 

There’s a moment where everything is silent, where Dan is distracted by his phone and Phil is focused on watching him, when he realises that it’s too quiet. 

No birds chirping outside their window, no sounds of traffic or buses hissing. The flat rests in a stale state of abeyance, the hum of the electrics gone and the air cold. 

There’s a split second where Phil wonders if they’re in some kind of limbo or heaven, but the thought is gone as quickly as it came. He doesn’t think either would be so cruel. 

Dan shoulders start to shake, his phone held in a white-knuckled grip. Phil leans forward, gently pulling Dan into his arms. His mind briefly registers how cold Dan feels against his burning skin. Goosebumps ripple down his arms as he grips Dan tighter. 

“What are we going to do, Phil?” Dan whispers wetly. His heart aches at the fear in his voice, fear that he hasn’t heard in years. Not since the last time they felt so stuck and utterly lost. 

“I don’t know.” 

“It’s too quiet,” Dan says. “I hate it.”

“I’m sorry,” Phil whispers back. 

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know.” 

A few moments pass before either of them speak again, and Phil feels deafened by the silence. 

“Can we have five more minutes?” Dan asks. “Just—here. Before we need to leave.” 

He wants to tell him they can have forever, that five minutes before they have to face the end of everything as they know it will never be enough. But he thinks Dan must already know that, so he doesn’t. He clasps his right hand with Dan’s. 

“Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't normally write stuff like this so I hope it's not too terrible! 
> 
> You can like/reblog it on [tumblr](https://obsessivelymoody.tumblr.com/post/178363505592/just-break-the-silence-rating-g-word-count-1k) if you want!
> 
> The title is taken from "New Born" by Muse.


End file.
